Of Monsters and Poisoned Apples
by Devourer of Gods
Summary: Vaendor is a Bosmer recently expelled from the Thieves' Guild and later inducted into the Dark Brotherhood. He'll soon learn that being a ruthless assassin becomes his true calling, and he has Lucien Lachance to thank. -First person narrative; contains violence and gore-
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : _This fic will mainly focus on the Dark Brotherhood. I'll try to stay true to the quest line from Oblivion, but can't make any promises. This fic will also contain some descriptive violence and gore. If you're squeamish, I suggest you turn back and read something else. Comments and/or constructive criticism is optional, but would be greatly appreciated._

 _If this fanfic generates a lot of interest, I may be urged to work on it instead of letting this be another "hobby write" and let it sit for months on end. I hope you'll enjoy this first chapter._

* * *

My blade was plunged between the rib bones of a city guard. The guard was lurching in his death spasms while my sword impaled his heart through his back. I pulled my short sword out of the man's body and he dropped to the ground, his last breath escaping him. The blood on my blade glistened in the moonlight and the smell of it made my heart race. I've killed plenty of beasts, plenty of bandits and their ilk. This was a first for me, taking the life of a guard. It felt no different than killing a bandit.

There had been a horse on the road and I figured I'd take it. I didn't realize the guard was out in the bush taking a piss. He caught me and tried to apprehend me. I had no love for the prisons and not enough coin to bribe my way out. So I ran. He gave chase, pulled his sword on me, and now he's dead. Not that I feel any remorse. An attempt on my life is an attempt on my life. Luckily for me, it was late into the night and there weren't any witnesses.

The horse hadn't gone anywhere. I cleaned my sword on the cloth of the dead guard and sheathed it before approaching the mare. She was a bit skittish, possibly nervous from the stench of blood in the air. I soothed her enough to hoist myself onto the saddle. I had no idea where I was. I'd been wandering around aimlessly ever since I left the Thieves' Guild. Well, more like I got expelled for being too greedy. What can I say, I've got sticky fingers when it comes to coin. Stealing from a fence is ill-advised, a reminder I shall keep telling myself. I could probably get a pardon with the guild, but for now I best stay away from the Waterfront. Things have gotten hectic, what with that Hieronymus Lex and his lackeys running all over the place looking for the nefarious _Gray Fox_.

I rode the horse down the dirt path until I decided to get off it. I didn't want to risk bumping into another guard on the road, especially with a horse that had the Imperial Legion insignia on the peytral. Bandits I could handle, but killing more guards wasn't on my to-do list. It wasn't long until I found a cabin in the woods. I got off the horse and checked my surroundings. I quietly walked over to the cabin only to discover it was empty. The door was unlocked and I walked in.

I was still feeling excited. I don't know what it is, but killing a man and watching his life ebb away with every last breath always made me feel rather ecstatic. I try not to go overboard, but sometimes I can't help myself. Sometimes, I just have to go looking for trouble, find a bandit camp and pick them off one by one. I clenched my gloved hands, feeling my fingertips tingling from anxiousness. I know I shouldn't be so thrilled about taking a life, but I really can't help feeling it. I enjoy the rush and the sense of power. Someone should probably end me before I really go off the deep end.

I better get this monster in me sated before I return to the Waterfront. I walked over to the bed and sat down. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, exhaling slowly. I needed to calm myself, least I ever get any sleep. Once my exhilarated emotions were settled, I pulled off the belt that held my short sword and laid it on the night stand. I then lied down on the bed.

It didn't seem like I'd fallen asleep. I felt a cold chill and woke from my slumber. I sat up, feeling groggy. I turned to the right so my feet were planted on the wooden floor and placed my head in my hands for a moment. I was still drowsy from sleep.

"You sleep rather soundly for a murderer," I heard a male voice and jerked my head out of my hands, looking up at a hooded man. I quickly got up to my feet, pulling my steel dagger from my bootstrap. "Easy now."

"Who are you?" I glared at him.

"I am Lucien Lachance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood," he introduced himself.

I blinked at him for a second. "Dark Brotherhood?"

"Have you not heard of the Dark Brotherhood? Of the remorseless guild of paid assassins and homicidal cutthroats?" he asked. There was something about his tone, his voice. A voice that wasn't commanding, but very disarming. Almost alluring, I could say. Captivating and non-threatening. The kind of vocal tone I decided I hated. "We are, more than anything, a union of like-minded individuals. We kill for profit, for enjoyment, and for the glory of the Dread Father, Sithis. We are a family with bonds forged in blood and death."

Great. Who did I piss off enough to have them hire this cult of assassins on me? I kept my dagger raised, preparing for a fight. "So, what is this? Am I to die tonight? I'll have you know, I won't go down so easily."

"If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have awakened at all," he stated coolly.

I considered his words with a single nod and lowered my weapon, "Point taken. May I ask why you're here?"

He smiled and said, "A killer like you, the way you work your blade against living flesh; it pleases the Night Mother. I come to you with an offering, an opportunity to join our rather unique family."

I stared curiously at him as I processed his words in my head. From what I can make of his facial features beneath that hood, I would assume he was an Imperial. I wasn't too sure, though. His name sounded Breton, and the moonlight alone couldn't give me a good view of his face underneath that black hood. I sheathed my dagger into my bootstrap. "Alright, I'll bite. What's the catch?"

"Right into business, then. Listen carefully," he began. "On the Green Road north of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There, you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete."

"That's it?" I raised a brow.

"Yes. Do this, and the next time you're in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family," he said.

I quickly mulled over his words once more. Kill some nobody and get in with the Dark Brotherhood. Sounded like a great opportunity. What did I have to lose? "I'll do it."

Lucien smiled. "Excellent! Now please, accept this token from the Dark Brotherhood." He handed me a black dagger with intricate gold trimmings designing it. "It's a virgin blade, and it thirsts for blood. May it serve your endeavors well."

I gripped the handle of the blade. It felt light and right at home in my hand. I could feel that monster in me stirring. An opportunity to kill, once again. And not some lowlife bandit either, but an assigned target.

"Until we meet again," Lucien said before fading into the shadows right before my eyes. A camouflage spell. I could vaguely make out his figure as he walked away and left through the door.

I gathered my belt and sword, fastening it around my hips. I left the cabin to find the mare was gone. Why did I expect her to stick around? I sighed heavily and pulled my map out along with a compass from my travel sack. I needed to have some bearing as to where I was before making my way to Bravil. I figured I was close to Cheydinhal somewhere, and Bravil was further southwest from wherever the hell I was. It was going to take me a while to get to Bravil on foot. Perhaps, I could steal another horse...


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** : __If this fanfic generates interest, I may update this fic every Friday or Saturday. If not, then it'll just be another "hobby write" and collect dust for months on end._ Comments and/or constructive criticism is optional, but would be greatly appreciated._

 _Enjoy.  
_

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

I spent a night and a morning in Bravil, resupplying my travel sack and having my sword sharpened. I spoke with the local beggars, handing out some coin for their rumors and gossips. From what I gathered, this Rufio fellow was an elderly man practically living at the Inn of Ill Omen for two months now. Something about an argument gone awry and whatnot. I didn't care too much about the little details, just needed to know Rufio was still at that inn.

Once my business in Bravil was done, I traveled along the Green Road. I bumped into a few travelers and they spoke about some 'Hero of Kvatch' closing a few Oblivion Gates around the region. I've heard about the Oblivion Gates opening up everywhere, as should everyone know, but this was news to me. I guess someone decided they had enough and wanted to punch a Daedric Prince in the face. That's pretty hardcore, I had to admit. Not many folks would get so fed up that they drop what they're doing to fight a Daedric Prince.

Speaking of which, I remember meeting a sweet Dunmer back in Bruma. She was a lovely little thing in public, but in the bedroom she was as lively as a flame atronach. I'd visit her from time to time when I was in Bruma, and she'd invite me to the warmth of her body. She'd often speak about 'paradise' and wanted me to join some order called the Mythic Dawn. Of course, I asked what that was all about just to humor her and she ranted about this great paradise, some guy named Mankar Camoran, and praising Mehrunes Dagon. I think the cold of Bruma might have gotten to her. A shame, really.

I had collected some coin along the way. Travelers were either dirt poor or had enough to make it to another little rest stop. Not like they'd know I pocketed the spare change. By the time they notice, we'd be so far apart it'd be pointless to chase me down. That's the fun part when speaking to strangers on the road. They get so distracted with small talk, making it too easy for me to take a few coins, or something valuable now and then.

I'm a natural-born thief. I suppose that's why the Thieves' Guild seemed to shine on me. At least, for a while it did. The whole honor system among thieves thing didn't really cut it for me. Helping others was my least favorite thing to do. I'm only looking out for myself, and if some people get trampled, well that's their fault for not moving out the way.

I finally made it to the inn. The Inn of Ill Omen was rather dead in the afternoon. Not a single person in sight. I entered the inn, being met with a warm, musky alcoholic stench. This inn was pretty run down and shabby at best. A perfect place for ruffians to spend their nights. The innkeeper had been wiping a mug with a dingy cloth when I approached him.

"Hi there, I'm looking for a man named Rufio," I said, leaning on the counter.

"Rufio?" the innkeeper thought for a moment. "Yeah, he should be in his room, sleeping his days away. What do you want with him?"

"I'm just a courier. I've got a telegram for him," I replied. "Mind telling me where his room's located? I can just slip the telegram under the door."

"Sure. He's downstairs, last door on the left," the innkeeper said. I thanked him and made my to the trapdoor leading downstairs.

The short hall was empty, as expected. I approached Rufio's door, finding it locked. I picked the lock and quietly entered the room, closing the door slowly behind me. The old man was sound asleep in his cozy wooden bed. I was hoping he'd be awake. Killing a sleeping man wasn't as thrilling. I'd much preferred it if this man was making an attempt at my life, rather than putting a pathetic end to him like this. Well a job's a job, and I am interested in what the Dark Brotherhood has to offer me.

I pulled out my new black dagger. It felt like it was pulsating in my palm, and I felt a great need to kill. I loomed over to the bed, placing one hand down on the old man's head to keep it steady. I quickly slid my dagger across old Rufio's wrinkled neck, blood spilling onto his pillow. He jolted awake and sat up abruptly, causing the blood gushing out from the deep slit in his neck. He reached up to try and plug the wound with one hand, while making an attempt to grab for me with the other. I had stepped back far enough for him to barely touch my leather armor. He lost too much blood far too quickly and he slumped forward onto the floor, face first. I nudged him with my boot, then knelt down to check his wrist for a pulse. He was gone. I went through his pockets for anything valuable. He carried a small pouch of coins, maybe enough for another month's pay. Pity.

I wiped my dagger on the bed sheets and sheathed it. Interestingly, the dagger didn't seem to be stained in the old man's blood. I got up to my feet and looked around for anything else I could pocket. After a quick check, I left the room with nothing but the coin I lifted from the Rufio's corpse.

When I went upstairs, the innkeeper said, "That took quite some time, huh?"

I stared at him for a second and smiled, "He had a lot of telegrams."

The innkeeper only nodded and I waved my farewell to him. It'll be some time before anyone discovers that old man's body rotting in that room. By then, I'll be long gone.


	3. Chapter 3

I found a small, run-downed house in the woods. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. I was ready to get some real sleep. I hadn't slept well in three days. I went to check the Waterfront only to find out nothing's really changed. Imperial Legions were still trying to round up folks, still trying to find that infamous _Gray Fox_. I spoke to some of the beggars and asked what was going on with the guild. They were happy to fill me in. Apparently, the guild was trying to get Hieronymus Lex reassigned in Anvil, so they can get back to usual business. Good luck with that, I'd say.

The door wasn't locked and I walked in as if I owned the damned place. This house was occupied, though. I didn't know someone had been claiming this hovel until they tried to ambush me. It was a deranged Nord woman with a tiny dagger. Disheveled hair and in filthy tattered rags, she was aiming for my neck and missed twice before nicking me in the arm. I pulled my short sword out and thrusted it into her abdomen, pulling it sideways and splitting her open. Her innards spilled out of her and she collapsed, crying out obscenities at me. As she was on her knees trying to shove her guts back in, I jammed my sword into the back of her head. She made gurgling sounds, blood and saliva running down my blade along with bits of flesh. She eventually stopped struggling.

I pulled my sword out of her skull and wiped it clean before sheathing it. I winced at the gash on my left bicep. I pulled off my leather armor and my cloth shirt. I tore a piece of cloth from the linen sheets lying around. I reached into my sack and pulled out a small vail. Popping the stopper, I poured some of the liquid salve on the linen and wrapped up my wound. It tingled and stung rather harshly, letting me know the healing properties of the potion was working properly.

I'm usually very aware of my surroundings. How did I not notice that crazed woman hiding in the dark corner? Maybe I was getting rusty. It's been a while since I've last did a stealth job for the Thieves' Guild. I'm unintentionally letting my guard down due to lack of activity, and that's not good.

I sighed, sitting down on the bed and leaning against the wall. The night was still young and I wasn't quite sleepy just yet. After killing that woman, I was on a certain high. I hate being taken by surprise, but at the same time, being that close to death made me feel _so_ alive. I wonder, would I still feel the same if I had my neck sliced open? I won't know until someone finally puts an end to me. Until that day comes, I'll keep doing what I want to survive.

I closed my eyes, feeling tired all of a sudden. The adrenaline rush had slowly worn off. I dozed while sitting up against the wall. I don't think I slept very long before I felt a presence near me and opened my eyes. I looked up at to see that hooded man.

"So, the deed is done," Lucien spoke.

"So it is," I got up to my feet, covering my yawn. I stared at him and asked, "Have you been shadowing me or something?"

"My dear child, you will learn that the Dark Brotherhood knows a great deal about those chosen to be a part of our family."

"Eyes everywhere, huh?" I reached over to pat my wrapped wound. Lucien looked down at the half-naked corpse, then back at me.

"Do you also slaughter those invited to your bed?" he questioned and I stared at him for a moment, trying to contemplate if he was serious.

I couldn't help but to let out a laugh. "Of course not. That woman attacked me out of the blue. By the Nine, I haven't completely lost my mind, just yet."

"Good to know," he said. I could almost make out an amused smirk on his lips. "The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink."

"Oh, now _that's_ poetic," I said in a blithe tone with a cheesy grin.

"You liked that, did you?" he smiled. "For a deed well done, I come to you as Speaker of the Black Hand. There is a particular group I oversee in Cheydinhal. They will be your new family."

"I've got a question," I said.

"Ask away."

"How did you find me? You don't even know my name."

He let out an amused chuckle and said, "The Night Mother has been watching you for some time, Vaendor. She knew where you'd be. Anything else you'd like to ask?"

I frowned. I don't know if I liked the fact my name could be simply plucked out of the air like that. "I'll come back to you on that."

"Very well. Now then, go to the city of Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall. Enter the basement and approach the black door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly: 'Sanguine, my Brother.' You will gain entrance to the Sanctuary," Lucien instructed. "Once inside, speak with Ocheeva."

"That's it then, huh? I'm in?" I asked. Lucien glanced out the broken window. I looked as well, seeing the sky peeking between the forest leaves was beginning to lighten.

"We must now take our leave of each other, you and I. There is much work to be done," he said and I turned my attention back to him.

"I get the feeling this isn't going to be our last meeting," I commented.

He smiled and said, "I'll be following... your progress, Vaendor. Welcome to the family."

Lucien walked over to the door and cast his camouflage before stepping out. I looked around for my shirt, finding it on the bed. I pulled it over my head before picking up my armor. My armor could use some repair. I'll stop by the nearest city and get this old thing fixed up. I really should save up for better armor, and maybe a new sword.


End file.
